


fevered regrets

by yoonminoml (fanficloverme96)



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29480736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficloverme96/pseuds/yoonminoml
Summary: When was the last time Mitsuki ever yelled at him?Iori honestly could not remember. And yet here he is, standing in front of his brother, stunned into silence the moment those cold, angry words are directed at him.“Stop interfering in my dreams!”
Relationships: Izumi Iori & Izumi Mitsuki
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	fevered regrets

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place pre-canon, where Iori and Mitsuki fought because of Iori's involvement in Mitsuki's dreams towards becoming an idol.
> 
> Iori should be in his final year in middle school.

When was the last time Mitsuki ever yelled at him?

Iori honestly could not remember. And yet here he is, standing in front of his brother, stunned into silence the moment those cold, angry words are directed at him.

_ “Stop interfering in my dreams!” _

Mitsuki had never shouted at him before. Not like this, anyway. They had gotten into a few fights here and there but it was usually because of some petty disagreement that ended up getting resolved in a few hours anyway.

This one, however -

Iori knows in his heart that Mitsuki will not find it in him to forgive Iori that quickly, if Mitsuki forgives him at all.

“Nii-san -” he chokes out, “I -”

“Leave,” Mitsuki says coldly, “Iori, I…” There is a frustrated sigh. “I don’t want to see your face right now. I don’t want to hear your advice. I don’t want  _ anything  _ from you.”

The words hurt. They cut through Iori’s heart like a dull knife, leaving bleeding ragged lines in their wake. As though to seal the deal, Mitsuki picks up the resumes Iori had prepared for him and practically shoves them into Iori’s hands.

“Leave!” he screams, “Just go already!”

Iori swallows all the words he wanted to say. He’s shaken to the core. He forces his body to move, his legs finally carrying him away as he breaks into a run.

His brother is angry at him.

And Iori is terrified.

  
  


It’s been a week since Mitsuki last spoke to him.

Iori tries not to let it get to him, but when they live together and seated next to each other at the dining room table, it’s hard to not sneak a glance towards his brother and hope that he gets something in return. He doesn’t, and everytime this happens, the wound in his heart just deepens.

But it’s not as though Iori can really blame Mitsuki for his cold shoulder. If anything, Iori knows he deserves it. He had crossed the line this time. He had hurt his brother and if Mitsuki is upset at him for it, then Iori deserves it.

Mitsuki does a good job of not showing it on his face, though.

“I’m done eating,” he says cheerfully to his parents as he claps his hands together, “Thank you for the meal.”

“You can leave your dishes in the sink, Mitsuki,” their mother says, “I can do them. You go on ahead and prepare for the opening.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes. Now go.” Their mother looks at Iori with a smile. “You too, Iori. Go help your brother once you’re done.”

“Yes, mother,” Iori says politely. 

He waits until Mitsuki leaves the dining room and slips under the archway that leads to the shop before leaving his own seat. Against his better judgment, Iori is nervous at the prospect of being alone with his brother while they prepare for the shop’s opening. With their father visiting a relative in another city, it would be just the two of them handling the shop for the first half of the day while their mother worked in the kitchen.

The shop would be busy enough that the two brothers would rarely have time to speak to each other anyway, but during preparation, the silence between them would be palpable.

And when he reaches the shop a moment later and sees Mitsuki already wiping down the tables, Iori finds himself swallowing a lump in his throat.

“Do you need help with anything, Nii-san?” he asks, breaking the silence. His voice sounds strangely high-pitched and strained.

Mitsuki spares him a glance before directing his attention towards his task again. The fact that his gaze on Iori lasts for barely a second hurts more than it should. Iori hopes it doesn’t show on his face. 

“You can mop the floors,” Mitsuki says, “You have homework still, don’t you? You can go complete those before you start working. Wouldn’t want to ruin your chances for your top high school choice.”

Maybe it’s his imagination but Mitsuki sounds sharper than usual.

“I already finished them,” Iori says quietly.

“Hm, is that so? Never mind what I said then.”

They don’t exchange any more words after that. Iori silently goes about his task, his mind mulling on what to say. His brother’s cold shoulder is frostier than he anticipated and again, Iori could not blame him for it.

If someone tried to actively interfere and forcefully take part in accomplishing his dreams for him, Iori would be angry. Or at least, he thinks he would be. He sneaks another glance towards Mitsuki, watching the way he arranges the cakes in the counter display, his brows furrowed in concentration.

The silence between them eventually grows much too loud for Iori to bear.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

Mitsuki continues arranging the cakes, not even pausing to look at Iori. “For what?”

Iori clenches and unfurls his fists, feeling nervous all over. “I was inconsiderate of your feelings,” he says softly, “I didn’t notice that you were uncomfortable and frustrated at my interference. I’m sorry, Nii-san.” He swallows, throwing in one last ditch effort. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Those words are incredibly childish and Iori had always prided himself for being mature for his age. And yet in this moment, he couldn’t stop himself from saying them nor can he stop the desperation from seeping into his voice.

The truth is, he hates it when his brother is angry at him. Or rather, more than hatred towards it, Iori is  _ afraid _ . 

There is a pause. Mitsuki finally stands up and lets out a sigh. He looks at Iori with a weary expression on his face.

“The shop’s gonna open in a few minutes. I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he says, “I’m going to get some last minute supplies from the back, so unlock the doors and man the counter for me in the meantime, alright?”

Mitsuki disappears into the back before Iori could formulate a proper reply. As he stands in the empty shop by himself, his hands curl back into loose fists at his side.

He winces.

His head really hurts today, too.

“Thank you for your purchase! Please come again and have a nice day!” Mitsuki greets cheerfully at the counter. He hands the paper bag filled with pastries to the housewife with a charming smile adorning his face.

Throughout all the years Iori had observed Mitsuki working in the shop, it’s that very same smile that Iori could never look away from. Mitsuki has an air about him that naturally draws in people and it’s because of his charming personality that the Izumi family business has many repeat customers.

It frustrates Iori as much as it angers him that the entertainment agencies Mitsuki had auditioned for kept failing to see it. 

To make matters worse, his headache shows no sign of relenting. Had he overworked himself in school again? Or is he more stressed than he thought?

“Here is your parfait, Miss,” he says to the young girl as he places the dessert on the table, “Strawberry and chocolate, just as you requested.”

The girl smiles happily at the sight of the giant parfait. “Thank you, Iori-kun! This shop’s parfait is the best. I never get tired of it.”

“Oh, but Iori-kun,” her friend across her says, “Are you okay? You look kind of pale.”

The girl then looks at Iori, her expression morphing into concern.

“You do,” she says in surprise, “Are you tired, Iori-kun? You should take a break.”

“I...I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss,” Iori says, “I feel fine.” 

As though his own body is determined to contradict him, his head pounds even more than before. He just noticed how warm his body feels and when he tries to take a step, it’s like he forgot where the floor is. He sways a little unsteadily on his feet, his hands gripping tightly onto the tray.

“Iori-kun,” the girl says again, panic creeping into her voice, “I think you should sit down -”

“I’m fine -”

The world continues to spin around Iori. His hands let go of the tray accidentally when he scrambles to grab the nearest object to him to maintain his balance but his fingers end up slipping from the back of the chair. The world continues to tip and turn and his head continues to pound. He feels hot all over.

He tries to blink the dizziness away but it only seems to worsen it. By then, Mitsuki is already looking his way, no doubt curious by the commotion made by the female customers Iori was serving. Iori could see the forming frown on his brother’s face.

“I’m sorry, I have to...get going now,” Iori says. His words are slurring now. His vision is rapidly blurring. “I have to help Nii -”

The world tilts one more time and suddenly, the floor underneath his feet does not exist. Iori could feel himself falling forward and could hear the surprised cry of his name.

He blacks out before he could feel the pain from colliding headfirst to the floor.

Iori could hear murmuring around him.

“I’ll take care of him, Mom. You can go back to the shop.”

“Are you sure? It’s been a long while since Iori got this sick.” Worry is evident in his mother’s voice. “We’ll take him to the doctor as soon as I close up shop. Just to be safe.”

“Mm. I’ll keep an eye on him in the meantime.”

Something cold presses against his forehead. It feels soothing against his burning skin and he moans softly out of instinct. He must have contracted a fever somehow judging from how hot his body feels. His eyelids feel heavy when he tries to crack them open.

The moment light enters his vision, he hisses in pain, his hand raising to cover his eyes.

“Sorry,” a hushed voice says ruefully, “I’ll go slide the curtains shut.”

There is a sound of shuffling feet and curtains being drawn before Iori could hear the chair next to his bed move again. He drops his hand carefully and slowly opens his eyes.

Mitsuki’s face is the first thing he sees.

“Nii...chan?”

Mitsuki’s eyes widen in surprise before a small smile flickers across his face. “Nii-chan, huh? It’s been a long time since you last called me that.” He presses a hand on the wet towel on Iori’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“...Terrible.”

“I can imagine. I’ll go get your medicine.” There is another sound of movements - a hushed breath, the scraping of drawers and the jostling of packages - before Mitsuki turns to him again. “Do you think you can sit up for a bit while you take your medicine?”

“Mm…” His head still pounds but the pain is duller than it was before. “How long...was I unconscious?”

“For about an hour,” Mitsuki says. He pours Iori a glass of water before helping the boy into a half sitting position on the bed. “Mom managed to calm the customers down so don’t worry about it. Focus on getting better.” He takes the wet towel from Iori’s forehead as he watches the boy swallow down the pill Mitsuki gave him. “From the looks of it, you might have a fever.”

He searches Iori’s face, worry flickering across his own. “Let’s go to the doctor after this, alright? Just to be safe.”

“...Okay.” Iori lies back down against the pillows, watching Mitsuki fuss around him. He still doesn’t dare to make a proper conversation, fearing that Mitsuki still has some anger left towards Iori simmering inside him. 

He watches him like a shadow would trail a person, observing every single movement Mitsuki makes no matter how small. When Mitsuki finally settles down next to Iori again, there is a brief moment of silence.

Iori finds himself not knowing what to say again. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter because Mitsuki ends up being the one to break the silence. 

“Did you overwork yourself in school again?” Mitsuki murmurs, his voice holding a familiar gentleness, “I told you to not push yourself.”

“...I’m not,” Iori murmurs, “Maybe it’s just...one of those days where I feel under the weather.”

“One of those days, huh?” Mitsuki hums thoughtfully, “You  _ do  _ get sick pretty rarely, even as a child.” There is suddenly a hint of a smile across his brother’s face. “Although during the times when you did get sick, you used to throw a big tantrum. You’re such a quiet child that it’s funny how the only time you ever made a fuss was when you’re sick.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a good or a bad thing,” Iori grimaces.

“Mom and Dad were thrilled to be able to spoil you, that’s for sure,” Mitsuki laughs, “You didn’t demand a lot of things when you were a kid so they were worried if they’re not giving you enough. I remember one time you got so sick you started being picky when it came to food and Mom looked like she was about to shed tears of joy.”

“Mother is strange,” Iori mumbles, flushing from both the fever and embarrassment, “Most parents would like it if their children are well-behaved.”

Mitsuki smiles. “But Mom and Dad aren’t most parents.”

“No, they’re not,” Iori agrees.

They descend into silence again. Iori doesn’t feel quite drowsy anymore, even though his body still feels as heavy as lead. He somehow wishes that he is sleepy, though, if it gives him the excuse to be here with Mitsuki without feeling the pressure of filling in the silence. 

It wasn’t always like this. Normally, silence between the two siblings is comfortable.

But after the fight, Iori wants nothing more to break it or to run away from it. And right now, he could do neither. 

Iori is so wrapped up in his thoughts that when Mitsuki reaches out to touch the boy’s cheek, Iori lets out an ungraceful yelp and scrambles backward. He yelps again when his back hits the headboard and yelps yet  _ again  _ when the force of it sends another wave of pounding ache to his head.

“I-Iori?” Mitsuki says, flabbergasted, “Are you okay?”

“I was s-surprised,” Iori says weakly, “Sorry for startling you.”

“I should be the one to say that,” Mitsuki says exasperatedly, “Don’t get overexcited when you’re like this. Your fever might worsen.” Despite his chiding words, there is a smile on his face, even though it is laced with exasperation. “This is the most I’ve seen out of you in a while.”

Iori obeys without a word when Mitsuki coaxes him to lie back down. He watches in silence as Mitsuki pulls the comforter up to his chin before patting it in satisfaction.

“Mom should be done with work in a couple of hours so hang in there, okay?” Mitsuki says.

“...Okay.”

Iori is still not used to this. After a week of cold shoulders and terse silence, suddenly Mitsuki is talking to him like nothing happened in between them. Like the fight didn’t exist. Iori desperately wants to go with the flow and pretend with him but -

His heart is too riddled with anxiety to play pretend.

“Are you...not angry with me?” he asks quietly, “You’re... Nii-san, you’re talking to me again.”

Mitsuki, at the very least, looks surprised at the question. The surprise eventually morphs into something akin to shame. He sinks back down to his chair and lets out a long sigh.

“I was never angry at you, Iori,” he admits, “If anything, I was just frustrated at myself and I took it out on you. I’m sorry. I’m not a good big brother for that.”

Iori is already shaking his head. “Nii-san, it’s my fault too,” he protests, “I crossed the line and didn’t think of your feelings. I’m in the wrong - grk!” His words are cut off by a series of coughs. His upper body bends forward as he endures it, his eyes squeezed shut. He feels a warm touch rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“Now, now. I told you not to get overexcited,” Mitsuki chides, “Come on. Lie back down.”

Iori slumps tiredly against the pillows again once his coughing subsides. His chest feels tight and the fever is making his body all warm, and despite this, he still shivers. He really can’t remember the last time he got this sick.

Mitsuki waits until Iori settles down before he starts speaking.

“I know you’re only doing it out of concern,” Mitsuki says softly, “I knew this and yet I childishly became angry at you when you didn’t deserve any of my anger.” He offers his little brother a small smile. “I’m sorry, Iori. I shouldn’t have lost my temper at you.”

“...Nii-san is upset about the auditions, I understand.”

“There is that, yeah,” Mitsuki admits, “You know better than anyone else how long and how many times I’ve auditioned and come back empty-handed. I like to think I’m more resilient than this but I guess...I’m worn too thin.” 

Mitsuki looks at his hands, his expression complicated on his face.

“Rejection after rejection after rejection…” He sighs. “It really does break your spirit over time.” He slowly lowers his hands back onto his lap before looking at Iori. “You did your best to help me, Iori. I’m grateful to you. That’s why I was so frustrated with myself that even with all that help, I couldn’t even pass a single audition.”

“Nii-san…” Iori bites his bottom lip. “Those agencies...they just can’t see your potential, Nii-san. They don’t realize just how brightly you shine.”

Mitsuki lets out a self-decrepitating laughter. “I appreciate the compliment, but you don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Iori.”

“I’m not lying,” Iori insists, “You have a charm about you, Nii-san. You draw people in. Look at our customers? How many of them are regulars? How many of them asked for you whenever they visited the shop?” 

“Iori…” Mitsuki blinks, not knowing what to say. Iori takes his silence as a sign to carry on with the momentum he has.

“Nii-san, you may not have a natural talent for singing or dancing, but people feel at ease around you. You’re naturally charming. You work harder than everyone else I know.” Iori looks at Mitsuki with determined eyes. “I mean it when I said you shine brightly, Nii-san. Those agencies just didn’t realize it.”

“Even if what you say is true,” Mitsuki replies in a deflated tone, “There will always be someone else who shines brighter than me. Who is naturally talented. Who is more charming. As long as I don’t stand out, I won’t ever succeed, Iori.”

Mitsuki is surprised when Iori suddenly reaches for his hand. His little brother’s touch is warmer than usual due to the fever, but his eyes are bright and earnest with not a hint of hesitation. Mitsuki has always envied Iori for his strength.

“One day, there will be an agency who will recognize you for you, Nii-san,” Iori says, “An agency with people who see and acknowledge your strengths for what they are without the need to compare them with others.” 

He grips Mitsuki’s hands tighter.

“You  _ will  _ become an idol, Nii-san. One day, you’ll get the chance to stand on stage and make someone in the crowd happy.” Iori smiles softly. “Though even now...even without a stage, you’re already doing that. You’re already making the people around you happy.”

Mitsuki feels his eyes watering at Iori’s words. His chest feels tight and he is slowly being overwhelmed by emotions. He tries to laugh it off, but it ends up sounding strangled and strange. He pulls one hand away from Iori’s grasp to wipe his tears away.

“How is it that even when you’re sick, you still have the energy to comfort me like this?” Mitsuki asks in a trembling voice, “Ah… Iori, you really know how to make a guy cry, huh?”

But his lips are stretched into a smile when he looks at Iori again. 

“Thank you for that,” he says, “Thank you...for believing in me.” 

He gets up from his seat and pulls Iori into a tight hug. 

“Nii-san, you’ll catch my fever,” Iori protests, but his arms raise to return the embrace. 

“It’s my day off tomorrow anyway,” Mitsuki says with a chuckle, “I can afford getting a little sick.”

“I would prefer it if you don’t…”

Mitsuki continues to hug him close and Iori finds himself melting into the touch. His heart feels lighter now and perhaps it’s the combination of the fever razing his veins and the relief that floods his body that Iori finds himself slowly becoming drowsy.

He slides his eyes shut, intending to keep them close for a few minutes while he listens to his brother’s heartbeat.

But he ends up losing consciousness entirely and falls asleep in Mitsuki’s arms.

Mitsuki leans forward and kisses the top of Iori’s hair.

“Thank you, Iori,” he murmurs, “Big brother loves you so much.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments/bookmarks are appreciated and you can find me on Twitter at @tennssi0907 !


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